


you're bleeding magic

by traumatic



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Beaches, Cunnilingus, Danger, Disobeying Orders, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Fae & Fairies, Fairies, Falling In Love, Fate & Destiny, First Kiss, First Meetings, Flying, Girls Kissing, Happy Ending, Lies, Magic, Mutual Pining, Nothing Hurts, Ocean, POV Third Person, Pining, Shower Sex, Sirens, Sorta I guess, Star-crossed, Strangers to Lovers, Swimming, The Author Regrets Everything, Wings, a bit - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-07-19 22:18:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19981432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traumatic/pseuds/traumatic
Summary: There's a long history of sirens in the bay. Eva's not the first to see one, but she is the first to kiss one.Or where fairies have been lured to the edge of the sand by beautiful voices and alluring faces for hundreds of years. Fairies have then been subsequently pulled beneath the murky water, drowned, and eaten, or so the stories go. Eva's the first in decades who chose not to listen to the warnings.





	you're bleeding magic

**Author's Note:**

> This was a pain in the ass to write honestly lmao. I kept losing inspiration, but, finally, here it is. 
> 
> Title from Bleed Magic by IDKHow But They Found Me. 
> 
> Wonderful art by [ guapasoto](https://guapasoto.tumblr.com/)! It truly fits perfectly! [ (x)](https://guapasoto.tumblr.com/post/186804490278/youre-bleeding-magic-by-shorters-theres-a-long)
> 
> Also, Thank you so much for dealing with my shitty writing and coming up with something extraordinary! It was awesome working with you :) 
> 
> Also Arritz, the name of their home, is from Biarrtiz, in France, which should help explain the franglish that everyone tends to speak in.

* * *

The small village of _Arritz_ has never felt like home to Eva.

She's spent the greater portion of her life flying between the tall trees and over the small village houses, but has never had the sensation that she just wholly belonged. Perhaps it's because of her wings or her history or, maybe, Eva just wasn't meant to linger. Maybe she was meant to travel. 

No matter what the reason, Eva couldn't just abandon her family and her responsibilities because she felt stagnant. 

Besides, it's Thursday, which means it's her turn to watch over the sea. Her favorite of the family chores, for sure. Why would she leave on the day she enjoys most? 

"I'll be back at dusk!" Eva shouts to her mother as she shoves her sandwich into her bag carelessly. 

Her mother waves her off with a flick of her wrist, mouth full of berries, too busy to talk. Her half-brother, Isak, has just returned from _his_ Thursday job of gathering berries for the day, and Eva’s mom is very happy. He, however, is not. 

It's his least favourite job, but he's very good at it. The best in the house, for sure. 

He almost never squishes the berries, whereas Eva almost _always_ does. She rushes tasks like that, trying to get through it as quickly as possible. She’s not very detail-oriented, honestly. 

Eva grabs a handful of blackberries, which causes Isak to scoff, and then she ducks outside, wings gliding through the air like plane wings.

Her wings, compared to the rest of her body, are the perfect size. Not too small like some of the boys, and not too large like some of the other fairies. Just right for her height, tinted just slightly blue, like the color of the salt water by the beach. 

Her feet are tucked underneath herself as to not throw her off balance as she flies and her wings are spread, gliding across the air like those old airplanes used to, except better. More efficient. Quieter. 

She watches the small buildings pass beneath her in a blur, the sight sort of soothing in an odd way, and glances at the upcoming sea with excitement. She _loves_ Thursdays. They're, as her people say, _le meilleur._ The best. 

The ocean is beautiful and vast, endless and fearless. It is restless and mysterious, full of dark creatures with wicked teeth and sharp claws. It is the only bright spot in Eva’s dark, empty life. It is the only continual source of happiness she has ever found and it somehow never lets her down. 

All _fée_ (fairies) between the ages of 17 and 20 have to spend a couple hours a week watching the coast as a rite of passage, like a community service, until winter when the coast becomes inhospitable. Eva's parents did it and so did their parents and their parents before them. 

She's supposed to be keeping an eye out for the sirens that attack in the summer months. Deadly fish-like beings with razor sharp claws and fangs the size of cattails who can summon storms at will. As the stories go, they have hunted and preyed on weak _fée_ for centuries, since the people fell from the sky and created them. They are feared by all _fée_ kind, are told as cautionary tales by the elders to the children from before they even understand the words. 

As soon as Eva could read, she'd been given guides and warnings and showed drawings of gnarled and twisted beings, been taught to fear them. Been taught to run from them and watch for them, just in case. To keep her ears covered because their silky and divine voices have lured many to their cold deaths with a handful of empty, venomous promises. 

Eva lowers herself to the ground at the top of a soft dune near the water, glittery dust speckling the sand around her feet, and tucks her wings back against her spine. She watches her shadow as she does so, getting some peace from the knowledge that she’ll probably always have them at least, and sighs. 

She pulls out a book on apple trees for class, puts in her ear plugs, and starts to read. 

* * *

Eva's about to call it quits for the night when she accidentally spots her. It's a total fluke, a haphazard glance back over her shoulder as she tugs her bag up over her shoulder. A coincidence in the making. 

A quick blip of colour darts between the white waves, a sharp splash of blood red against the cool, light blue. Then she sees the girl. 

She's fast and vicious as she swims, a sharp and ferocious fish-like being—a siren! On her watch! _Oh, shit!_ —and she reaches outward, a medium sized fish clutched tightly in her hands. 

The mermaid looks up quickly, eyes wide, and Eva notices she looks nothing like the drawings and stories have made her out to. She has pretty regular teeth and regular hands and her face isn't gnarled, her eyes aren't slitted and monstrous. She looks, from the waist up, just like a fairy with no wings. 

"Fucking hell," Eva says, cursing aloud without fear. 

No one's here to hear her anyway. No one, but the siren. The siren's mouth moves. Eva can't hear her, of course, because she's wearing precautionary earplugs, but she likes to think she, too, is cursing. 

Eva stares at the girl, at the brilliant scarlet of her scales, and the siren stares back. There’s a moment of hesitation, where they’re both just looking at each other with equal amounts of awe before the siren dives under the waves and is gone between one blink and the next. 

Eva sits there for another half hour, awed, waiting for her to come back, but she doesn't. The only thing Eva sees is the crashing of the waves and the setting of the sun. She flies back toward her house at once, still in shock, and furrows her eyebrow at the oncoming houses. 

She's the first fairy to see a siren and make it out alive in all of recent history. 

* * *

Eva sees Isak the next morning before school and contemplates telling him. He’s her brother, _son meilleur ami_ , she can tell him anything. 

She almost starts to as they sit across from each other to eat breakfast, her mouth only just opening to say, “I saw a siren last night” when her mother enters the room and Eva shuts up. 

Isak may understand, but their mother certainly won’t. 

* * *

The next time Eva sees the mermaid is almost a month later. 

It's hotter than hell outside and the sun is scorching the tops of her bare shoulders when she finally sees the glitter of blonde hair under the water and, then, the vicious red of her tail. She stands up immediately—only to get a better view—and stares. 

Eva doublechecks what she saw last time, making sure she wasn’t hallucinating. No razor sharp teeth, no slitted eyes, no nails as long as knife blades. She is just a girl with a fish tail and bright blue eyes. Beautiful and mysterious. 

"Wait!" Eva shouts and then says, _"Attendez!"_ in case she only speaks the ancient language of the people who fell from the sky. 

The siren pauses her movements, just about to dive under the water, and stares back. Around her neck, Eva notices, is a string with one singular shimmering pearl. The light reflects off of it strangely, illuminating her chin with a moving pattern of opalescence. 

The siren's gaze strays for a second, darting to the wings on Eva's back that automatically spread when confronted with possible danger, and then she dives away, the fastest thing Eva's ever seen. 

And somehow, strangely, the most beautiful. 

* * *

Eva wonders for weeks after why the girl hadn't tried to harm her. She's read and reread all the books, the myths, the stories, and come to the conclusion that they're all bullshit. They have to be, right? 

The sirens look nothing like the images, are nothing like the tales. The blond girl was nothing like Eva would have _ever_ imagined. Eva and the girl are strangely alike, if you can ignore the wings and the tail. Just two teenagers trying to figure life out and take it for all it’s worth. 

"Mom," she says to her mother one day after seeing the siren for a third time, "have you ever seen a siren?" 

"No," she says hastily, chastising with wide eyes, “and you shouldn't _ask_ about them or be _concerned_ with them! They are _dangerous,_ Eva! _Mon dieu...”_

"Sorry," she says, tipping her head down. "I'll be off, then." 

The sun is hot today and it feels like it's cooking her alive. She wants to splash some of the cool salt water on her skin and doesn't think about the consequences of her actions before it's too late. She grabs her bag and flies down to where the sea meets the water, feeling a little abashed and very sweaty. The girl with the scarlet tail is waiting for her with a curious look and beautiful blue eyes. 

Eva realizes after a second of just staring at this gorgeous creature that her earplugs are still in the bottom of her bag. She's completely _fucked._

"I am not going to hurt you," the siren says and her teeth are sharper than Eva previously thought. 

They aren't razorblades like the stories say, but they do look pointed. Sort of canine, in shape. 

"I've never...seen one of your kind before," she says with a thick, smooth accent, "but the legends...you're awful." 

Eva swallows roughly before she speaks, fear unfurling in her chest, "What do they say?"

She's not afraid; She's just caught off guard. 

"You're kind... _les_ _fée_...are bastardly beings. You set traps of razor wire for us and wait to snag us and eat us. Your wings are electrified, modified just to torture us. One touch in the water...and we fry. The sea— _notre maison_ —is a dangerous place for us, because of you. We live in fear of being captured and eaten in your...disgusting rituals." 

Eva stares at the blonde girl in awe. The stories are made up. Lies. Fibs. She can't believe they would lie to her. She can't believe her people would lie to _her._

"My people...want nothing to do with this side of the sea. They send us out here to guard in case of attack." 

"My people do the same," Eva says. 

She's never been this close to the sea; the water nearly touches her toes. She wants desperately to touch it, to feel the cold water against her skin, but doesn't move. Breathes in and out shallowly as the sun bakes her shoulders. 

"They've told tales about how vicious the sirens are. How you lure the _fées_ to their deaths with your words. Your teeth are supposed to be razor sharp, your fingernails overgrown and wicked. You're supposed to be vicious and fatal, something no _fée_ has seen one of and lived." Her voice drops off, just for a second, before she recovers it. "I've seen you four separate times and here I am."

The girl looks at her calculatingly, colour of her eyes changing as she speaks. It's the most magnificent thing she's ever seen. 

"I could say the same to you," she snaps back, pulling herself out of the water and onto the shore seamlessly, looking effortless. 

Her tail sparkles under the sunlight like precious stones, ruby red under the risen sun. She lays back and sighs, looking both relaxed and effortlessly beautiful. 

"Sun's fucking bright today," she says, shielding her eyes with her arm. "How do you _idiots maladroits_ even live up here?" 

"We aren’t fools," Eva says sharply, "and most of us aren't clumsy." 

"Those legs are _pas pratique._ Very impractical." 

"And how are your fins _practical?”_

Eva settles down on the sand, spreading her wings out because of a sudden and painful cramp. It usually happens when she’s under stress so severely that she holds her wings taut against her shoulder blades for too long, causing her pain. The movement of her wings scatters a light dusting of sparkly sand. Nothing unusual for her. 

"You shed," the siren says, rubbing sparkling fairy dust between her fingers. "How strange." 

"Do your people...do they think we've killed?" Eva asks. 

The rumours surrounding the sirens are all murderous. Can the same be said about _les_ _fées_? Do the lies go that deep?

"Yes," she admits and lifts her tail to slap the water. "Ever swam before?"

Has she? No, the sea has always been off limits. Does she want to? Hell yes. The water looks divine and is probably blissfully cool; Eva’s shoulders burn a little hotter at the thought. 

"No.”

"What's your name?" 

"What's yours?" Eva snaps back. 

If her people find out she's conversing with a murderer, _une sirène,_ she's dead. Banished. Never to return. Her own mother will forget she ever existed. 

"Noora."

"Nice name," Eva muses. 

"You're supposed to tell me yours now," Noora makes a gesture with her hands and wears a very impatient look. 

Eva’s a little amused when she says, “Maybe later,” with half a smirk. 

“Not fair.” 

“Can I ask you how you’re so calm? You’ve just met a creature from siren nightmares that could electrify you with one slash, could behead you with a flap of the wing. I could’ve killed you, according to your myths, so why aren’t you afraid?”

"You couldn't hurt me even if you had the electrified wings and I made you dip them in the water," Noora brushes off the comment easily for a stranger. "The real question is how are you so calm about meeting me, _mon amour?_ I'm dangerous. I haven’t proven that I’m not...and you’ve just accepted me so quickly."

"I...I..." Eva stumbles backwards. "Are you tricking me?" 

"No," Noora frowns. "Why would I do that?" 

"I don't know...to kill me and eat me for dinner?!"

Eva can't believe she'd been so stupid. It was her voice! The siren had used her _voice_ to lure Eva in. That's the only reason she would've made friends with the enemy...right?

"Why would I do that?" Noora wrinkles her nose. "I'm a pescetarian."

"You're a...What?" Eva pauses from her mad scrambling to scowl, confused.

"I only ever eat fish," Noora admits. "Why would I break my moral code to kill an innocent and innocuous _fée?_ It makes no sense." 

"I can't...I shouldn't...I've got to go," Eva says and she stands. "I'll...bye. Just...bye." 

She grabs her bag off of the ground and bolts back to her post at the crest of the hill. Once she's there, she stuffs her ears with her earplugs and takes a shaky breath. Noora is still there, still basking in the sunlight, still watching Eva panic. 

Eva buries her face in her hands to hide her emotions and she sighs, going over the past ten minutes in her head. 

When she's finished, she still isn't sure what happened. 

* * *

Noora waits at the beach every Thursday for the girl to fly her fairy ass down to the water, but she doesn't. Not for a long time. The air has begun to get cold at night, staunching Noora's plan to wait on the rocks at the edge of the bay, so she hides underneath the water and waits, braiding strings of seaweed as she does so. 

By the time the girl gets over her fear and approaches Noora, she’s weaved an entire blanket of seaweed braids. It looks pretty good, actually, but what use does anyone have for a cold, wet blanket? Noora can hear the repetitious beating of the girl's wings before she can see her, can see the shadows of _dentelle_ on the cool sand. 

Wings are supposed to be ugly, twisted, and electrified things, but not hers. Noora briefly wishes she had her own set, so she could fly far, far away from all of her troubles. 

_"Bonsoir,"_ Noora says with half a smirk as she settles onto the ground near her, "how are you today?" 

"I'm fine," she answers hesitantly, "and you?" 

"Well, I suppose, though the sun is a bit dull today," Noora shrugs. "Are you gonna tell me your name now?" 

The girl sighs and nods, rolling her eyes. Maybe Noora’s getting hypothermia, but it seems as though she does it fondly. _Mignonne._

"Eva," she admits and sits down on the sand. 

Her hair shines under the light, red in the dull sunlight, and her wings cast a twisted shadow on the sand. Noora feels like painting her, even though she doesn’t paint. Underwater painting is a bit too complicated, a bit too much work for so little a reward. 

"Cool name," Noora says and pulls herself onto the sand, hoping the mediocre sun will do something for her today. 

For a mermaid, she's pale as fuck.

"Thanks," Eva says and she sounds hesitant. 

They sit there for a while, silent, before Eva asks Noora a question. Suddenly. 

"What's it like? You know, underwater?" She tucks her wings against her back and lays down, side to side. 

"At first, it was beautiful. I mean, it still is...but I’m just...I want to travel. I often find myself wishing I had those ridiculous legs you have just so I could get away. The dry world is so...so different from what I can see." 

"Sounds like you’ve gotten too used to it down there." Noora agrees with her. She has. 

The water is a prison Noora is cursed to live in for eternity. 

" _Arritz_ is sort of like that for me, as well. It's beautiful, sure, and the view from up high is stunning, but it's like I'm a different person when I'm surrounded by the other _fées_. When I'm out here, on the shore, in the sky, it's different. I'm better. I'm more...me." 

Noora nods gently, feeling like she can understand that a bit. Noora only truly feels like Noora when she’s alone in the shallow, cold bay, staring up at the lights from the city over the horizon. 

“It’s called _Arritz?”_

“Yes. What is yours called?” 

“Honestly? No name. Just call it the sea and then this is the bay. We aren’t big on labels, you know, so we keep it very simple...but _Arritz_ is a nice name." 

Eva nods her head and Noora stays silent, because she has nothing left to say. She'll never see _Arritz,_ never experience it like Eva has, so why talk about something she can't have? Noora tips her head straight up so she's facing the sky and shuts her eyes. Perhaps if she just lays here with Eva, all of her problems will go away. Maybe her tail will, too. 

* * *

Noora isn't asleep, but Eva might think she is. They've been laying under the cool, setting sun for an hour, maybe, or two, and neither has moved or spoken. Have just laid beside one another and listened to the waves crash against the sand. Noora can't sleep like this anyway, not out here where the vastness of the sand and the sea meet. Not where there isn't some place to hide, without some plan to escape. 

But she does think. She thinks of her friends back home, of the fish that swim past, of the small space behind a patch of bleached coral where she hides her relics. She thinks of the beautiful fairy laying beside her. Her wings free against the sand, their elbows almost touching. 

She thinks of how much she'd give just to see Eva's world. How much she'd leave behind for even a chance at having those stupid, clumsy legs. 

The light behind Noora's eyelids disappears all at once, so she opens them. Sits up. Her skin is too dry, but she doesn't care. She just turns and looks over at the shimmering dust scattered on her arms and smiles, a little sad. 

"Wake up, _ma petite._ The sun has set." 

Eva startles a little, eyes opening in shock, and then groans. She presses her fists against her eyes and sits up. She looks adorable in this light. In the darkness. 

“Oh, shit,” she laughs a little. “I fell asleep. Did you?” 

“No. I don’t...I sleep during the day, usually.” And never, ever with anyone around. 

“Oh, really? So you pull all-nighters to watch the bay?” 

“Not quite.” Semantics. Sleeping is complicated for sirens. 

“Are you going to explain?” She’s smiling, looking half-awake and making Noora wish for things she can never, ever have. 

“Nope. I am, however, going home.” 

“Me, too,” Eva says gently, swiping sand and fairy dust from her arms. “I’ve got an early morning tomorrow.” 

“Got a hot date?” 

“Yeah,” Eva scoffs. “With a bunch of berry bushes.” 

“What’s a berry bush?” 

Noora’s questions elicits a series of gasping, shocked noises from Eva that she has to laugh, no matter how melancholic she’s feeling. 

“You’ve never heard of a berry? _Les baies?”_

“We don’t have that word where I’m from. What is it again? _Baies?”_

“Oh, my god! They’re delicious! Sweet and sharp, usually. I don’t even know how to explain it." 

"Must be a land thing, then?" 

"Yes! I'll bring some next week maybe. If you want." Next week. 

The promise of another meeting. The promise of again. Noora smiles, beside herself, and nods. 

"I'd like that." 

* * *

The berries are the sweetest things Noora's ever eaten, or so she says. She makes pleased noises as she swallows them by the handful—blackberries and raspberries and even some blueberries, which are rare for the season. Eva watches her eat them and wonders if all sirens are this alluring. If it’s just Noora’s natural magnetic magic that’s making Eva think odd things about the red stain on her lips. About how soft her mouth probably feels. About how sweet her tongue would taste. 

“My brother picked these,” Eva says, suddenly, drawing herself away from that line of thought. “He’s much better at it than I am.” 

“Is it difficult?” 

“In a way, yeah. I’m not very patient and I like to hurry through the task and get it over with, so I tend to squish them. Isak has patience that I just...don’t.” 

“Are you impatient with everything or is it just that task?” 

“Depends, I guess. I’ve always enjoyed sitting on the beach, so I’ve never really felt the need to rush home. I guess I have patience for things I enjoy.” 

Eva looks over at Noora, who is looking over at her. She’s never felt like this before, never felt this feeling in the pit of her stomach, and it thrills her. It also terrifies her. 

“What?” Noora asks pleasantly, smiling in a way that makes Eva want. 

Want what? To kiss her? To touch her? To run the fuck away? _Mon dieu._ Eva is losing her shit. 

“Nothing.” 

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” 

Her smile, the look on her eyes. Eva hasn’t seen anyone like her before. She glances down, at the single, shining pearl around her neck, and reaches out for it. Lets herself touch it with two gentle fingers. 

“A pearl?” Eva doesn’t know how she knows the word, but it feels right. 

“I’ve worn it since I was born. I can’t remember ever taking it off.” 

“It’s beautiful,” Eva whispers and she realizes how close she is to Noora’s mouth. Within inches. 

“Yeah, it is.” She’s watching Eva watch her. Waiting. She licks her lips. “And so are you.” 

Eva’s never done this before. Never even thought about it with a girl. But she leans up, takes a shallow breath, and presses their lips together. She doesn’t know why she does it, but she wants to so badly. Her eyes fall shut and Noora, slowly, winds her arms around her. Her fingers press against Eva’s ribs as she kisses her back.

It’s a surreal, uncomplicated feeling. Eva is flying, soaring through the air with two broad butterfly wings on her back. She is diving through the cold surface of the murky bay with a smooth _queue bleue_ in place of her legs. She is kissing a girl in the sand in front of the water like a person with no worries. 

Her hand touches Noora’s jaw as her mouth opens underneath hers. She tastes of berries and salt and her skin is as smooth and cool as glass. Eva pulls away first as the water laps up over her toes, startling her. The cold air blowing in from over the sea causes her to shiver as she does, smiling hesitantly when Noora grins. 

She reaches out to touch Eva’s cheek once with cold, delicate fingers and says, “Next time, I’ll bring you something,” Noora says softly in that beautifully thick accent, the falling sun setting her pale hair ablaze. “A gift for a gift.” 

* * *

Noora’s gift is very, very cool. 

The air is too cold today for short sleeves, so Eva wears a coat and jeans instead of her normal t-shirt and shorts to meet her down by the water. The beach looks a little frigid and lonely until Eva spots Noora’s crimson tail darting through the waves toward the shore. 

She settles down on the sand and digs her hands into her pockets as Noora approaches her. Today, she holds a small net of seaweed over one shoulder and wears a joyful grin that, upon seeing it, makes Eva grin just as brightly back. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” Noora says and gently sets her bag down onto the sand as she pulls herself up on it, leaving just her fins in the shallows. 

“I know, right?” 

“I brought you a gift.” 

She opens the bag up and withdraws a shell the size of Eva’s head. It’s iridescent, like Eva’s wings, and ridged on the top like a prehistoric dinosaur. Eva’s never seen a shell this large, this beautiful, this intact. All the shells on the sand are worn down by the water or are smaller than June bugs. 

Eva grins and holds it up to hear to listen to the sounds of the ocean inside it. 

“I love it, Noora,” Eva says happily, tracing her fingertips over the patterns on the exterior. “I’ve never seen a shell so big!” 

“Down by where I live, there are so many in all different shapes and colors, but this one reminded me of your wings.” She reaches out gently and strokes the base of Eva’s left wing. 

Eva shivers, because it feels so nice, and looks over at her, bites her lip, and then leans in to kiss her again. Noora’s hand doesn’t stray from Eva’s back, just turns to hold her tighter as they kiss. Eva’s only ever kissed Noora once, but there’s a familiarity in the way she moves, in the way she holds Eva, like they were two long lost friends being reunited again. 

“It is almost as beautiful as you are, _mon amie,”_ Noora’s eyes crinkle with her smile. “Almost.” 

* * *

Eva spends her Thursdays wrapped up in Noora’s cold arms, talking about Noora’s underwater and Eva’s abovewater lives, until the cold is too unbearable for both of them. The ocean laps up over the sand and the bitter, December air whips at their skin on their last Thursday together. 

Eva’s wearing her winter coat zipper up to her ears and Noora’s taken to staying beneath the water almost completely, leaving over her face outside to speak. 

It’s too much. It’s not enough. Eva doesn’t know what to do, but she can’t face the cold for much longer. She has to figure something out, because the winter is only going to get worse from here. Eva knows from experience that snow will fall and water will freeze and the beach will be impossible to visit. 

“I’m leaving,” Noora says suddenly and Eva’s eyes widen. 

“What?” 

“During the winter, we sirens swim deep so the water is warm and we live beneath the water until spring. I didn’t want to tell you, because I thought I could stick it out, you know? But I can’t. My fingers are blue.” 

“I wish you’d told me,” Eva says softly, “because I would’ve let you go. It’s too cold, Noora. We weren’t built for the winters, not like they are now.” 

Magic can only get them so far. Winters of the past were much milder, but the beings that fell from the sky fucked up a lot before they fell and became sirens; the weather is only one of them. 

“I don’t want to leave you.” 

“You have to. To be safe. To stay warm.” 

“Merde,” Noora says sullenly. “This sucks.” 

“Winter sucks.” 

Eva’s going to miss her so fucking much. What is going to do with her Thursdays until the spring? She’s going to _die_ of boredom. 

“I’ll miss you,” Noora says softly. “I don’t know what I’m going to do without our Thursdays.”

“Me neither. And I’m gonna miss you so much.” 

The thought of not seeing her, of not kissing her, makes Eva’s chest ache with pain. Nothing is like before last summer, but it might feel that way when the loneliness creeps into Eva’s body like a draft in an old, rickety house. When she’s got nothing but the rise and fall of the sun to look forward to. When her only friend is the moon. 

Eva starts to fly, just so she can hover over the water and kiss Noora’s mouth once. There are tears in her eyes and some on her cheeks, but she kisses Noora like a hello. Like she has no plans on this being their last. 

“I’ll miss you.” I love you. 

And maybe Eva does. Maybe she’s too quick to love and tell, but who cares? Who’s timing her love story? Fuck that. Eva will feel however she wants to. 

“See you in the spring?” Noora asks tentatively and Eva flies low to hold her freezing jaw in her shivering fingers and kiss her with as much authenticity as she can muster. 

She has to remember the feeling of her smooth, icy skin and the smell of salt and sand. She has to or she will go insane. 

“See you then.” 

* * *

Eva spends approximately one Thursday sulking before she gets her shit together. Noora wouldn’t want her sulking, she’d want her doing something with her time. So do something she shall. 

She spends the next three Thursdays in the _biblio_ reading everything she can get her hands on about the sirens in the bay. The snow started falling last Sunday and hasn’t really stopped since, so the trek is a little more than cold. It’s fucking bitter and Eva’s chest is heavy from missing Noora. 

After recent truths came to her attention, most of the lore seems like anti-mermaid rhetoric, and the rest sounds like lies. One book is apparently fictional, but still placed in amongst the other information, and tells about how the dangerous sirens gestured for the narrator to follow them out to sea where they all circled and then subsequently molested him, like dolphins. The narrator then wakes up from the dream in his bed. Gross. 

It takes her four weeks to find a sliver of hope in a small entry in a book the size of a dictionary. The book’s old and dusty, but the information seems promising. It’s a personal account of a sighting from 15 years ago! Someone named Sam Berg, who seems to be local, as far as Eva can tell, had been sitting at the sea when it happened. When she saw him. 

> _I was just sitting out there, watching the sea like I usually do. Then, suddenly, I see a flash of silver in the waves. I'm thinking it's a fish, right? I've been sitting there for almost 10 years and never seen nothing but fish. So, yeah, it's a fish. Maybe a threadfin, you know? But then I see it again. So I approach the sand and see him. A siren. Beautiful and tragic and faster than light. Dangerous, too. But so beautiful. One second he was there, and then he was gone. He meant me no harm, I think. I think he was just as scared as me. Maybe more._

That sounds eerily similar, doesn’t it? A siren who meant no harm fleeing in fear from what could’ve been one of the only creatures on this planet that could kill it. Eva writes down the witness’ name and heads over to the librarian’s desk. A tall, wingless man stands behind it with light, smudged eyes as he reads over paperwork. 

“Hello,” Eva starts to say, “I’m interested in finding someone who lives locally. She witnessed something that I have questions about.” 

The man looks up and Eva notices he’s sort of beautiful, in a wistful way. He looks more like Isak’s type, though. And without wings? Perfect. 

His name tag says Even. 

“You can use _l’annuaire,”_ he says kindly. “All you need is a first and last name and it’ll work, but you might get more than one result, depending on how common the name is.” 

“Oh, okay. Thanks.” 

Eva goes over to _l’annuaire_ and sits in front of it. It’s a slim screen against the wall with a desk and chair. She types in _Sam Berg_ and ten results come up. She tries to narrow it down by age.

This person had to be at least 18 to be allowed near the bay and then they said they’d spent 10 years watching it 15 years ago, so they have to be at least 43. She sets her parameters to people above the age of 40 and gets two results. 

One is a dead man and the other is a 45 year old woman who still lives out near the water, apparently. Seemingly as close as she could without breaking the law. 

Eva scribbles down her phone number and borrows the cute, wingless librarian’s phone. It rings and rings for a long time before someone finally answers.

“Hello?” 

“My name is Eva,” she says and then, after looking around to see if anyone’s listening, “and I want to talk to you about the sirens.” 

* * *

Sam Berg is a badass and the most honest person Eva has ever met. She’s about 5’2, has white hair, and talks with a lisp. Her husband, a tall, dark-haired man with eyes so blue they’re almost grey, is gentler. Calmer. Offers her tea instead of a shot of whiskey. Tells her, in an odd sort of _Arritz_ accent, to sit on the couch while he makes it.

Sam flops down onto a raggedy chair and looks at her. Judges her. Cocks an eyebrow. 

“So you’ve seen one then?” 

“...Yes.” Eva’s done more than _see_ a siren. She’s touched one. Kissed one. 

“Me, too,” Chris says flatly. “I see them all the time now that I’m no threat.” 

“No threat?” 

“I’ve got no wings. Not anymore.” She turns a little and Eva notices for the first time the empty holes in the back of her jacket. 

Sometimes, when _les fées_ get older, their wings just fall off. They wake up one morning and there they are, covered in the last bit of dust they’ll ever shed, left over on the sheets like they’d never even had them at all. It's a devastating blow for most, considering their prevalence has led to the exclusion of wingless _fée_ from certain activities. 

“Shit,” Eva says matter-of-factly. “That sucks.” 

“Doesn’t it? Anyway. How many times have you seen the siren?” 

“A few.” Dozen. 

“Then you know everything the elders said is a lie, right?” 

Eva does know this. She’s been over the lore and the stories from cover to cover. She’d read dozens of “first hand” encounters and seen at least 30 badly drawn renditions of the beautiful sirens. She knows that it’s all lies, fabricated by her elders to keep them in line, to force their hands. To keep them out of the bay. 

And still she hesitates, because how could she so quickly dismiss everything she thought she knew for sure? Her entire world view is shifting and she’s struggling to keep up with it. 

“I...do.” 

“Well, then, what did you need to see us for?” She doesn’t seem to be the smiling type, but she makes a kind face. 

“I just...I needed some clarification, I guess.” 

“Sure, love,” her husband sets down tea and some cups on the table in front of them. “We’ll be glad to answer any questions you have.” 

“You’ve seen one, too?” 

Sam and her husband share a look that Eva can only call conspiratorial. They share an inside joke, a secret, and he laughs a little. 

“Something like that,” Sam responds at the same time that he says, “I was one.” 

Eva’s mouth drops. Sam gapes at her husband, whose name Eva still doesn’t know, and scoffs. 

_“Tu craches le morceau, Adam!”_ Sam says aghastly. “What if she was a spy or something? God.” 

“She’s like 18, honey,” he—Adam—laughs. 

Eva is _19,_ for the record. 

“And she admitted to seeing us in the bay. Plus, who would send a spy?” 

“You’re a siren?” Eva furrows her eyebrows. “But you have legs?” 

Adam laughs a little and, when he speaks, it’s now with the same accent Eva’s siren has. That Noora has. 

Her heart pangs and she has to take a deep breath through her nose to calm herself. She misses her. _Tu me manques._

“It’s a long story...but the short version is that I...I gave up the ocean for her and she gave up her wings for me.”

 _“No!”_ Eva is appalled and aghast. “You _didn’t.”_

Sam looks at Adam and Adam looks back before they burst out laughing. Like falling over themselves and onto the floor laughing. Eva sighs in relief that theirs isn’t some stupid Romeo/Juliet type of thing. She's read that play and, frankly, was a little disappointed in the ending. 

“God no,” Sam says lightly. “My wings fell off when I turned 42, bub.” 

“And I can go whichever way I please, so long as I have my necklace.” 

Eva’s eyes widen a bit with understanding and some curiosity. Noora has a pearl on a necklace that she hasn’t taken off since birth. Could that be it? A way for Noora to see her world? 

“A pearl?” Eva asks softly, afraid of the answer. 

“Yeah. My people don’t say it, would deny it if asked, but if I purposefully remove the necklace with the intent of changing myself, I can sorta…” 

“Grow legs,” Sam says simply. 

“What if the necklace fell off?” 

“Nothing. I’d stay with fins and gills and stuff. I have to want to look like _un idiot.”_

Eva’s mind is whirring so fast she misses the insult. So many possibilities have sprung up so quickly that she is beyond overwhelmed. Noora can...She can see Eva’s world, if she wants. 

“What if Sam put on the necklace?” 

“Dunno,” Adam says thoughtfully. “Never tried it. Wanna give it a go, love?” 

Sam’s eyes are narrowed as she glares at him. 

“So I can be _un poisson?_ No, thanks.” 

Adam laughs and it’s a pleasant sort of laugh. The kind that makes you want to laugh with him, even if you don’t know why he’s laughing. Eva smiles, despite being way overwhelmed. 

“Come on. Just a second...to satisfy our curiosity.”

Sam scowls at her husband and thrusts her hand out begrudgingly. He places his necklace, which he retrieves from his pocket, into her palm and she rolls her eyes before lacing it around her throat purposefully. There’s a second where nothing happens. Sam just sits there, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised, and the entire room is still. No one moves.

Then the pearl lifts off of her collar and shimmers, just for a moment, and then she flops to the floor. Like a fish. 

“Jesus Christ,” she groans. “You knew that would happen, didn’t you?” 

Adam can’t answer because he’s busy laughing. Eva’s laughing a little, too, because it’s quite funny, but she’s also thinking of Noora and how they can share each other’s worlds. How she can become a part of the sea like she’s yearned to for years. About how Noora can walk through the fields and pick berries with her. 

She imagines holding Noora’s hand in _Arritz,_ she imagines the looks they’ll get. She imagines telling her mom and Isak that she’s dating a girl and knowing that that’s not the worst truth she could tell. 

Maybe she’ll tell Isak one day about what Noora is, if they last that long. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe she’ll get to have it all, for once. 

Maybe. 

* * *

The winter lasts so long that Eva fears it will never end. 

Snow was piled so high around them that she couldn’t see over the top of it when she stood on the sidewalks. Finally, in late March, the snow stops. 

It takes a couple weeks for it to melt and those are the worst to wait through. Eva pines and she wallows and she fills her day with hours spent at the library. Isak starts to come along with her, too, but only to watch the cute, wingless librarian and play video games on the computer. 

She does tell Isak, though, about Noora. Just a little bit because he shares a little bit about himself and the librarian, so they’re even. 

Even, he says, went to school with him, but was bullied, as Isak was, for lacking wings. Sometimes, that happens. 96% of the _fée_ population is born winged, the other 4% aren’t. That makes them the minority and easy targets. 

Bullying someone for something they can’t help is bullshit. Bullying anyone at all, actually, is bullshit, so Eva immediately is cool with Isak liking Even. Besides, she’s pretty sure Even likes Isak, too, but she’ll keep that to herself for now. 

On the day Eva steps outside and feels actual warmth from the sun, she soars through the sky and down to the sea. It is, oddly enough, the first Thursday of spring. Or what _les fées_ now consider spring. It used to be a lot early, according to Eva’s history class, but now it’s mid-April. April 13th. 

She settles down on the sand, taking up her post, and waits. She waits until the sun is starting to set and she begins to feel the remnants of the winter chill in the air. She should’ve brought her goddamn coat or at least another jacket. She’s fucking freezing. 

She sits there until she can’t bear it anymore and then she stands, sighs gently, and spots Noora’s bright crimson tail through the waves. She grins in anticipation, so excited to see her again, and starts to fly unconsciously. 

Sometimes that happens to her. She can’t help it, really, so she doesn’t even try to suppress it. Instead she waits as Noora approaches and throws herself up onto the sand. Eva doesn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around her skinny, wet friend, who is shivering a little on her own. Eva laughs in relief as Noora hugs her back, fingers digging into her ribs in excitement. 

“Oh! I missed you so fucking much, _mon amour,”_ Noora whispers into her ear. “So fucking much.”

“I missed you, too,” Eva pulls back to kiss her. “Unbelievably so.” 

Noora kisses her and it takes her breath away. They’re both freezing from the still-cold sea water and the icy breeze, but the kiss is hot. It burns Eva up inside. 

“So,” Noora pulls back to tuck her golden hair behind her ears. “How was your winter?” 

“Cold. How was yours?” She can’t stop staring at Noora, at the curve of her smile. 

She looks down to reach for Noora’s hand and notices a drawing on her skin. Only, it’s not on her skin, but inked into it. A tattoo. A creature with eight, long pock-marked limbs the color of raspberries. 

“Wet, honestly. Lonely, too.” 

Noora’s got no family, really. She said they’d left her “for the better” on bad terms, so she only really has her friends, Eskild and Linn. Both are sirens and, apparently, know a bit about Eva.

“I have something to tell you,” Eva says, biting her cheek. “Something exciting.” 

“Yeah?” Noora’s eyebrows rise and Eva wants to kiss the spot between them. “What’s that?” 

“I know how you can see my world.” 

* * *

Eva is so beautiful, Noora thinks, so beautiful and so fucking smart. Who would have known the answer to their problem was living within two miles of the shore? Who would have spent hour after hour looking through ancient writing for a single paragraph that lead to the unraveling of all of an entire conspiracy? 

Noora might be in fucking love. 

“So where shall we go first, _mon amour?”_

“I wanna show you my home,” Eva says brightly. “Show you the fields where the fruit grows. Maybe you can pick some?” 

Noora would _love_ that, even if she’s never seen a field or a ‘fruit’ in her life, so she grins and kisses her with every ounce of excitement in her body. She threads her fingers through Eva’s bronze hair and kisses her again and again until Eva laughs and pulls away. 

“Let’s see how tall you are.” 

Noora nods, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, and removes her necklace like Eva said to. She thinks of having legs, of walking around, of looking like a fairy. There’s a second where Noora thinks this is some kind of sick joke, but then she feels it. Feels the cool air on her skin, which feels nothing at all like she’s used to. Breathing also feels a bit weird, because her gills are gone, too.

She looks down and, instead of her shiny red tail, she sees two pale legs, perfect for _un idiot maladroit._ Somehow, magically, she’d also been granted a pair of what Eva calls ‘shorts’, so she isn’t naked. Magic truly is amazing sometimes, not that she'd necessarily mind being naked in front of Eva.

“Oh, my God,” she gasps. “It worked. Eva, it worked!” 

Eva, to her credit, has a look on her face that at first reads “did you think I lied?” but then she grins and embraces Noora. Hugs her so tightly it hurts. 

“That was the easy part,” Eva says when she pulls away. “Now you’ve got to learn to walk on _tes pieds, mon amie.”_

Noora had not thought walking would be very difficult. If all those _fées_ can do it, how complicated could it really be? 

* * *

Apparently, it’s very complicated. She has trouble even standing at first. Once she manages, the sun has set and darkness surrounds them. Eva assures her that her mother won’t notice she isn’t in bed and Noora understands. 

Their relationship, from what Eva’s mentioned, is a little shaky. Her mother only wants what’s best for her, but she tries too hard, too late. If Noora thinks about it, it’s a little sad actually. 

“You’ve almost got it,” Eva whispers into her ear. “It’ll be easier on the street.” 

The sand has been challenging, but maybe it will get easier, as things usually do, with time. By the time Noora’s able to walk relatively well, it’s well into the night, but Eva is still as awake as ever. Noora only really needs 3 or 4 hours of sleep anyway, so a late night is nothing unusual for her either. 

Eva leads Noora through the streets of _Arritz_ by the hand, showing her all the sights she can in the darkness. 

It’s more beautiful than Noora could’ve ever imagined. Eva calls the square-ish structures _"maisons"_ and says that people live in them, usually, but some have things like _"books"_ or clothes inside to be purchased. 

Both fortunately and unfortunately, capitalism seems to be a concept both _les_ _fées_ and _les sirènes_ share. 

Eva shows her the ‘park’ where young _fée_ play sometimes, chasing each other in a way that sounds similar to the way siren children do. Just without water. There’s really nothing about the two species that differs behaviorally, Noora’s come to realize. The people who fell from the sky and became the _sirènes,_ as the stories go, probably also fell on land and adapted to fly. The two species are probably just different branches of their evolution. 

Eva stops in front of a small _maison_ with a light outside that glows golden yellow. Small insects buzz around the light, drawn to it, as Eva says, _“Mon maison.”_

“Yeah?” Noora grins. “Looks lovely.” 

“Isak’s up.” 

“I can’t wait to meet him!”

Noora’s heard _lots_ about him. 

* * *

  
Isak is a little surprised when Eva leads Noora into the kitchen at half two in the morning. His eyebrows go up as his nearly empty glass of water pauses in front of his mouth. His hair’s a mess, like he was asleep (and he probably was), and he’s in his pajamas. 

“This is Noora, I take it?” 

Noora just fucking beams at him, showing the sharp tips of her incisors, as she nods. 

“And you’re Isak?” Her accent is so adorable; Eva wonders if Isak will ask her about it.

Eva’s going to collapse from stress.

“I’ve heard a lot about you,” he smiles. 

“Likewise. I—” 

“Alright,” Eva interrupts. “It’s a bit late and I’m knackered, frankly. We’ll see you in the morning.” 

_“Bonne nuit, Noora,”_ Isak says gently, giving Eva a rude look, as she pulls Noora toward the stairs. 

_“Et toi, Isak!”_ Noora gets out before Eva shoves her a bit. Laughs. 

Eva holds her hand as she leads her through the house. Her mother sleeps like the dead in a room off the kitchen, so Eva isn’t worried about waking her. Instead, she worries about her room. Was it a mess this morning when she left? 

She pauses at her door and Noora stumbles into her in the dark, reaching out to steady herself on her wobbly legs. Watching her figure out this new part of herself was fascinating and Eva can’t wait to be in her position, to see the ocean. 

With Noora so close, Eva takes the opportunity to kiss her. She wraps her arms around her, around the soft skin of the sides where the shirt Eva lent her is too short, and really kisses her. Noora responds immediately, winding her fingers in Eva’s hair and around her cheek. 

Eva never imagined this for herself, never imagined loving anyone, let alone a girl, but now that she’s here, she can’t see herself in any other way. 

Noora melts beneath Eva’s hands and her tongue is gentle against Eva’s as their mouths slot together. Eva presses her up against the door, which rattles a little with the impact, and Noora laughs. Presses her body against Eva’s. 

A soft sound escapes Noora’s mouth and it just. It does Eva in. Noora tilts her jaw back and lets Eva kiss down her neck, lets her taste the salt still on her skin. 

“Eva,” she whispers. “Please.”

Eva grins and fits their mouths together again. 

“I’m tired,” Eva whispers against Noora’s lips. “Should we go to bed?” 

“Or we could keep doing this,” Noora’s mouth is hot and so so tempting. 

But Eva wants to go out tomorrow and show her her world. She wants her to watch the sunrise from the top of the hill, to listen to the church bells at high noon, to taste strawberries _au terrain de jeu._ So she just smiles and hugs Noora’s shoulders. 

“I really did miss you,” she whispers. “But you really need a shower.”

“Hey!” Noora says, offended. 

“You smell like salt and fishy water.”

“Don’t be _un con!”_

_“Con_ is synonymous with Noora, though, isn’t it? Makes you a bit of a hypocrite.” 

Noora shoves her away with gentle hands and scoffs at her. She’s so tall with those human legs that Eva’s barely in line with her chin. Jesus. 

Eva giggles and Noora turns around with a laugh, throwing open her door and switching on the lights. Eva’s room isn’t a total disaster, for which she is so grateful, but there are clothes strewn about from this morning. Her bed is unmade, two of her drawers are half-open, but at least there’s no food or bowls or anything too gross. 

“The shower is across the hall. You should go first.” 

“Because I smell so bad?” 

Eva grins and nods, “Of course.” 

Noora snorts gracefully and looks around. Notices something on Eva’s mirror and starts towards it, unsteady on her new legs. Eva watches her, still half-smiling, feeling so much that she could just fucking burst with it. Noora picks up the shell off of Eva’s bedside table and holds it to her chest, smiling only with her mouth like it hurts. 

“I am alone underwater, you know, alone except for Eskild and Linn. So to have someone who cares so...so...fuck, what’s the word? _Thoroughly?_ For me? Is almost incomprehensible...so I want you to know that I...I love you, Eva.” 

Eva's smile is a tragic and delicate thing. She reaches forward to hug Noora to her chest, though Noora is taller, so she generally fails, but the intent was genuine. They laugh. 

"I love you, too...even if you're _un grand poisson."_

Eva sets Noora up in the "shower" with what she calls "shampoo and conditioner" for her hair and "soap" for her body. Noora has used _savon_ before and Eva says it's the same word, so it equals out. 

She leaves clothes and a towel, which Noora recognizes somehow. Probably from a story she heard from one person or another. The shower itself is another obstacle. Rounds things jutt out from the wall and a spout sprays water down in hot or cold bursts. 

Noora is both amazed and horrified. They swim standing up? Makes no sense. Only once she's under the spray does she understand. The warm water hits her back and she sighs happily. She hasn't been thoroughly warm since the end of summer and it's such a relief. 

Noora enjoys the smell of the shampoo as she pours some on her head, but it smells nothing like the ocean water it's named for. The conditioner is even more pleasant because it makes her hair so fucking soft. 

"Mon dieu," she says. 

Her hair has never been so smooth. The salt water gives it a crunchy, wavy texture, which she usually enjoys, but this is a whole different level. 

"You okay in there?" Eva's at the door. 

Noora smiles to herself, says, "I'm good...just a little confused. Do I condition all my hairs?" 

Noora now has blonde hair on her arms and face and legs and stuff. When she was a fish, it was impractical and a nuisance. Now, she has to stay warm. 

"What?" 

Noora sighs and repeats herself, but Eva apparently still can't hear her, because the door clicks open. 

"What?" 

"Do I condition my leg hair?" 

Eva laughs, "No, love. Just wash them with soap like the rest of you." 

Noora suddenly, weirdly has an idea. She feels a little devious while she thinks about it, though. 

"You said you were tired, right?" Noora sticks her soapy head through the curtain. "You should join me. Save time. Save water." 

"I couldn't…" 

"Or you could," Noora grins. "And maybe we could just like kiss a bit? Just a bit." 

Noora's a big fan of Eva's mouth. 

"Are you sure?" 

"Absolutely. Come on. I barely know what I'm doing anyway." 

Noora steps back inside and, a moment or two later, Eva joins her. She looks stunning and so nervous. Noora smiles at her and passes her the soap, trying to not be obvious about staring at her body. But at least Eva seems to be having the same issue. 

"Wash my back?" 

She turns and Eva hesitates. Then does as asked with gentle, insistent fingers. Noora lets a little gasp slip from her mouth, because Eva's hands know exactly what they're doing. 

"All good." 

"Thanks," Noora'a voice wavers. "I'll do yours now?" 

Noora's hands shake as they swap the soap and she touches Eva's skin. She's smooth and just a little hairy, like Noora. She smooths the skin over Eva's spine and her ribs and then her shoulders. She's being as gentle as she can, but still Eva gasps. 

"Did I hurt you?" 

"No, no. It felt...good, but I think it's clean. I just washed my hair this morning, so I don't need to do that part." 

Eva takes back the soap as Noora turns to scrub the conditioner from her hair. By the time she's finished, Eva is pretty much done. 

"Can I kiss you now?" Noora asks. "Just quickly. Then bed." 

"Of course." 

Noora leans down, feeling something inside her gut curl, and catches Eva's mouth against her own. Her skin is smooth when Noora cuffs one hand around her waist and one on her cheek. She feels so good, so strong, beneath Noora's fingers that Noora thinks about how much she loves her. So fucking much. 

She opens her mouth under Eva's, and their tongues meet. Eva's hand starts to roam from her shoulder down her arm. Noora feels the twisting in her gut again and it's unlike anything she's ever felt before. 

All she can get from the feeling is that her body wants more. More of Eva. More of this. 

Eva pushes Noora back a little, so they're out of the spray of water and against the wall, which is cold and damp behind her. Noora hums slightly and Eva grins a little. 

"Can I touch you?" Eva asks. "You can tell me when to stop if you don't like it." 

"Yes." Noora's body wants more. 

She won't ask Eva to stop. She won't.

"I love you," Eva whispers and kisses her again as her hand travels up Noora's arm until it's her shoulder and then her neck. Then she's touching her breast tenderly, gently. 

Noora's skin is still slick with the soap, so her fingers move like air across her skin as she cups her, kisses her, overwhelms her. 

And Christ does it feel good. Noora makes a soft sound against Eva's lips as she moves to touch both of her breasts, fingers touching the most sensitive parts until Noora pants a little against her mouth. 

It feels so good and that curling in Noora's gut is so insistent that she practically begs Eva for more. For something else. For everything. 

"I've only ever had this done to me," she whispers. "So apologies if it's not so great. I'm going to touch you down here, on your clit, if you want. If I do it right, it'll feel really good, okay? If you don't like it, just say and I'll stop." 

"Please," Noora says. "Do it." 

Noora knows almost nothing about her newly gained anatomy, only that she wants Eva as close as possible. Always. 

Eva kisses her once more on the mouth, on the neck, on her chest. She places a feather-light kiss on Noora’s nipple and then envelopes it in the heat of her mouth. Noora’s hand grips Eva’s shoulder, as Eva’s hand travels down, down, down. She spreads Noora’s legs apart and Noora moves almost instinctively, too focused on all the parts Eva's touching. Lets Eva access a part of herself she’s never accessed before. 

Noora groans when Eva’s finger touches a delicate part of herself. Groans because, while fleeting, it felt so fucking good. Impossibly good with the feeling of Eva’s mouth on her breast. She wants it again. 

“Eva,” she whispers and Eva keeps going down Noora’s body with her mouth. 

Her ribs. Her stomach. Lower to a part that Noora doesn’t have a name for, not even in the language of those who fell. 

Then Eva’s dipping between Noora’s thighs and looking up at her through lashes as thick and dark as seaweed. Her hands are braced on Noora’s knees and Noora’s hands are against the wall behind her as Eva smiles and lifts her mouth to Noora’s bottom half. 

Her tongue presses up against her “clit” and the pleasure is immediate. She slips a little against the wall, opening her legs wider, and Eva sits up, presses her whole face against Noora. She licks around her clit, at the places around it, which leaves Noora panting and gasping and grasping for purchase on the cool shower wall. It feels so impossibly _good._

This is what she’s been missing out on? This is _incredible._ Eva sucks a little, gently licking afterwards and Noora feels the knot in her gut tighten. It tights so good, so quickly, that Noora’s head spins. She reaches down, grabs Eva’s hair gently, not sure if she’s yelling or whispering, and her hips shake. Her legs quake. 

“Eva, oh, _mon dieu,”_ Noora moans and she’s not loud, but she certainly isn’t quite. 

The knot tightens and tightens until it’s so tight it breaks, flooding Noora’s body with something so immense and joyous and fantastic that she collapses back against the wall, panting until she can finally see again. 

Eva stares up at her, smirking happily, face shining, until Noora calms down enough to say, “Jesus Christ, Eva.” 

“I guess it worked. Last time wasn’t so great for me...The guy was totally lost.” 

“Can I...try?” Noora wants to help Eva feel like this. 

“You can for sure, but let’s get dressed, yeah? My knees hurt.” 

* * *

The next morning, Eva wakes Noora up with a shock and a fresh kiss. She’s never smelt anything quite as pleasant as her breath, so she asks. 

“Toothpaste. Come on. I’ll show you.” 

“We got anything special planned?” 

“I’m gonna show you my world and then you show me yours.” 

* * *

As Eva swims with Noora at her side, surrounded on all sides by clear water, funny looking fish, and sand, she wonders how she ever lived without this. Without her. 

She feels so wholly like they belong together, side by side, for the rest of their lives, that she can’t imagine a day where they’re separate. Where they were apart. 

Her tail catches in a ray of sun, speckling the water with azure flecks, as the pearl bounces against her throat. 

She can’t imagine a day where she and Noora don’t have the choice of where they belong— land or sea. She can’t imagine anything but the water at her side, the sand at her feet, and Noora’s hand in hers. 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading and thanks again to guapasoto! They're perfect :)


End file.
